Invictus
by BornAsTheSeventhMonthDies
Summary: The gods have split again. Those siding with Zeus have condemned Nico di Angelo for a crime he didn't commit. Kronos, of course, is busy scheming, and Hecate casts an unfortunate bit of magic, possibly, possibly, shifting reality. Damn. Part I of my Olympian War series. Also part of my Jake Universe. *THIS CHAPPIE UPDATE IS NOT A REAL CHAPPIE I JUST NEED HELP WITH SOMETHING*
1. Out of the Night That Covers Me

**Hey guys! This is a really angsty fic that I came up with after reading the poem Invictus (and seeing the preview for the old movie for the first time, sue me). As I was figgerin' out the storyline, I read this fic that WiseGirlGeek had written based on a line from Invictus. Believe me, D, I'm not takin' the idee. Great minds think alike.**

 **R &R!**

Out of the Night That Covers Me

* * *

I am death. I am darkness. The prince of the dead, the ruler of the monsters that haunt your nightmares.

Fear me.

I am the son of Hades.

* * *

He drew his sword. Raised his hands. This was not his fate.

He brought the blade down upon the beast. With a wail, it was absorbed into the Stygian iron and destroyed. Forever.

He raised his face to the skies. "I am not afraid of you!" he screamed. "You cannot hold me!"

The only answer to his defiant cry was a distant rumble of thunder.

"Come to me, prince of the air," the warrior said again. "Don't hide behind your hellhounds and harpies. Fight me yourself!" The last word he roared into the air. A gust of wind came up and blew the echo into his face, a mockery of his futile strength.

Another rumble of thunder. A crack of lightning. A bulwark of stormclouds rolled from the East, as if an airborne army was preparing to face the lone boy in battle.

"Fight me!" he said again, a plea this time. He sank to his knees. One tear rolled down his cheek. "Kill me," he whispered.

His enemy materialized in front of him. Blonde. Tall. A scar on his lip.

"Surrender, son of Hades."

The black haired warrior flinched at the cold, steel tone of the prince of the air. But he took a breath, letting it out slowly. "You know me, Jason," he pleaded. "We sailed together. Quested together. We're friends."

"I thought I knew you," the son of Jupiter spat. "But you proved me wrong...murderer."

Another tear raced down the boy's cheek. "I didn't kill him..." he whispered. "You know how I would never kill him."

Jason drew his sword. "Stand down," he commanded.

The boy also stood. "Give me a chance to explain myself," he said softly. "Let me prove I am innocent."

Jason ignored his request, just pointed his sword to the sky. Another rumble of thunder sounded, this time just above them.

"Ah, sir," Nico whispered softly. "Is there none other grace with you? Then keep yourself."


	2. Black as the Pit From Pole to Pole

**Black as the Pit From Pole to Pole**

 **Hey guys! I know, I know, it's been a while, I'm sorry. A lot of things going on in life- being fourteen ain't as easy as it looks, folks!- and I've been off FF for a while. But fear not, for this chapter shall deliver, if not all, at least some of the answers to your questions, chief among them being , 'whaddya mean, Olympian War series?' Read on, my good people, and despair!**

* * *

The warrior drew his black sword. Raised it to the sky to mimic his opponent's.

He let out a breath. He was not going to come quietly.

Then, with a painful cry that stretched back through a year of pain and misery, he charged.

The son of Jupiter met the attack with his golden blade, and the two began to fight.

A swirl of darkness. Shadows reached from the ground toward the Pontifex, and the earth groaned beneath them.

"Leave your devil's tricks," Jason growled, and a bolt of lightning slammed from the sky into the son of Hades' sword.

"Remember..." he said to Jason. "Remember our quests? The monsters we fought, the hardships we conquered?"

"You can't put me off with memories."

"Oh, Jason, I'm not trying to put you off. I'm just-" he lunged. Jason just barely blocked it, the shock of the contact shaking his arms. "-trying to tell you-" he blocked an overhead slice from Jason and leaped forward. " - all the times we fougt monsters-" he stabbed viciously at an opening in the son of Jupiter's defense. "- I've always been holding back." The blonde man's eyes showed a sudden doubt. Nico stepped back. Raised his hand.

Jason never knew what hit him.

* * *

"Listen to me!"

The dark-haired man raged and roared. The only other man in the room with him, a blonde, young-looking man with a frown on his face, shook his head.

"Hear me, whoever you are. This war you speak of is in my past. I've put all that madness behind me. Whatever may be happening with the gods and your children... does not concern me. Leave me to my peace." He sighed. "I'm not as old as I look, either."

"At least do me the common courtesy of listening to my story."

"Then speak, immortal one. Then leave me."

The tall man's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "We shall see... One year ago yesterday, the famed daughter of Bellona, the praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, was slain. Her killer was clever; he used powerful and ancient magics to conceal his deed from the eyes of both men and gods. But we decided that the killer was a son of Hades, a boy named Nico di Angelo. He was tried and convicted... and sentenced to death, and eternity in Asphodel, since his father threatened the gods if any worse punishment befell him."

"So far, this story seems simple and my attention unnecessary," the blonde man interrupted. "Have done."

"Silence, and it shall be the faster told. The boy evaded capture and escaped to the campers of Long Island. Some of them joined him and hindered his pursuers. Their parents, on observing the ensuing violence, joined ther children's cause for reasons yet unknown; they have separated themselves from the rest of Olympus."

"So you are on the verge of a civil war among the gods."

The dark-haired man nodded, his expression bleak. "And this madness will continue... until the son of Hades is killed."

The other man leaped to his feet. "That is what you came for?!" he shouted. "You seek to use my powers for your murderous purposes? Get out! I will have no blood on my hands."

The other man rose also, his expression just as angry. "You will not help us?" He asked, his voice low. "Your family? Have you fallen so low, Sander?"

"Speak not to me of honor and family," the younger man said. "You left all that behind when you tried to kill Nico. Get out." He raised his right hand. "I revoke the right of passage to you! Begone!"

The world swirled around the black haired god, and he saw only endless wasteland around him for miles.


	3. I Thank Whatever Gods May Be

I Thank Whatever Gods May Be

* * *

"Commander," the young warrior called. "He's in sight. Shall I fire?"

"Is he in range?" the other, older man asked.

The younger boy gave him a look as close to scorn as was ever safe for one of the Lykoi to give their alpha. "Of course, commander," he said.

"Then kill him."

The arrow flew, straight and perfect for far further than any normal bow could cast. The target fell soundlessly into the thick snow.

"A good shot, koutavi," the commander said, a grudging note of acceptance in his voice. "We go."

And so they did, silent as wraiths...or wolves...

* * *

The son of Hades sped on his way. He had no desire to stay and view the effects of his attack on Jason. He just wanted to get away, anywhere, but he knew the shadows were being watched and if he shadowtraveled it would just be that much easier to find him.

A chill ran through his spine. Someone had just ded... someone important to him and his quest. That could be a problem.

* * *

"He's in Alaska now," Annabeth said. "If we send a patrol quickly, we can find him. Who'll go?"

* * *

"He's in Alaska now," Leo said. "If we send a patrol quickly, we can find him. Who'll go?"

* * *

"My lord," the cloaked man murmured, prostrated on the ground. "My patrols have spotted the son of Hades in Alaska. May I be allowed to track him down?"

His dark master nodded. "He gave me trouble, years ago, during the giant war. I care nothing for the idiotic struggles of the gods. But the blood of Nico di Angelo will give me pleasure. Bring him to me."

"Yes, master. Chalazi lykoi."

* * *

The Father of Gods and Men, Master of Lightning, Lord of the Skies... Was sulking. There hadn't been such a rift between the gods for millenia. And it was giving him a headache. What price, he asked himself, was the life of a son of Hades, for peace between the gods? Olympus must be united. He had voted to slay the boy, of course. The evidence was plain and sufficient. But six of the fourteen gods had voted to save him, and they had then extended much of their powers to save the boy.

He sighed. His two brothers had sided against him. It happened so much that it was hardly a surprise. But he had hoped that Poseidon, at least, might see reason and help him. Apparently, however, Perseus Jackson had a fondness for the boy that went beyond the king of the gods.

He sighed again. This was madness.

"Ganymede!" he called. The young god entered. "Where is Hermes?"

"I know not, my lord. But is it thy will he should be called?"

"Summon him," Zeus said, suddenly allowing a self-satisfied smile to cross his godly visage. "I have... an idea."

* * *

 **Well, that wraps it up for this chappie, folks! Come back in about a week for the next installment! I know, I know, this wasn't as pulse-pounding as the hype made it out to be. But- and this I swear- the next chapter shall contain all of the following: a full-scale battle between three factions! a second Nico confrontation against an old friend! and a revelation about who those two mysterious fellows were whose conversation we listened in on last time! Come back next week for the fourth chapter in the epic fourth chapter of the Invictus saga: For My Unconquerable Soul!**

 **See ya!**


	4. For My Unconquerable Soul

For My Unconquerable Soul

* * *

 **Wow. Just wow. I mean, when I just started this story, I'm like, 'Hey! Story idea: new god split! Let's do it, guys!' ('Guys', of course, meaning my many altered states of genius/conciousness.) So I wrote the first bloody chapter and realized, 'Shit, people read it. Some people liked it. Dammit, I gotta write another one.' And another one, actually, and this the fourth. But then, in the two weeks since my _last_ installment, I realized I actually kind of like the storyline. So I thought this one up. I hope it's better than the last three. Thanks. R &R, guys!**

* * *

'The demigods of Camp Half-Blood are massing, lord,' said a tall, wolfish, thin-faced man.

'As are the legions of Camp Jupiter, lord,' said the man standing next to him.

'Fine, fine,' said the man they were addressing. 'Ready to attack.'

'Attack... whom, my lord?' the second man asked, slightly confused.

'Attack,' his master said, waving his hand in the air, indicating the general world. 'Kill. Sow misery. Bring death.'

'Yes, but... which side?'

'Side?' his lord asked, standing abruptly and letting moonlight fall on his upturned face. 'To me, young lykos, there are no sides. We go to fight godspawn. Ready the troops.'

'Yes, my lord.'

* * *

'Wise girl,' the son of Poseidon said, holding Riptide ready. 'We can see the Camp Jupiter flags now.'

Annabeth didn't answer.

'Annabeth?' Percy repeated, concerned. 'Are you all right?'

'No!' she snapped, flinging her blonde hair out of her eyes. 'Fine? Really? We're goingto war against our friends of three years. Our family. We're going to hurt and kill people who feasted us only a few months ago. And you're going to do the most damage, Percy. You're ready now, filled with this battle energy, but in a few hours you'll be lying on your bed, remembering what you did. And I... I feel it now.'

Percy stood, not knowing what to say.

'Go,' she said. 'Go begin the attack. Plan Xerxes-Beta.'

She nodded once. Percy left the tent, feeling, not for the first time, insecurity.

* * *

The armies of both camps stood in formation, silent, watching. Both sides knew the terrible beginning they were making, for what promised to be a long and terrible war.

And in the middle of the two, kneeling on the ground, head down, was Nico di Angelo, sensing already the death that was to be dealt on his behalf.

But he wasn't going to give himself up. He had a mission.

Find the killer of Reyna and Frank.

Yes, Frank was dead. He had been killed while crossing the Tiber, and his body was found in an eddy of the river, staining the frothing water a dark red.

And Nico knew who had killed him, had recognized the marks as belonging to only one being in the whole pantheon.

And he needed to find him.

And bring his head to Tartarus.

* * *

The two armies crashed together. The swords on shields, pikes on helms, and arrows whistling through the heavy air created a deathly crescendo that deafened all who had not heard it countless times.

In his cocoon of darkness, Nico winced. The first death had occurred. A Greek. He shook. Two more, Romans, had been cut down.

And the casualties mounted.

Then, cutting through the battle crash like a knife, came a noise that struck fear into the hearts of the Romans, confusion into the hearts of the Greeks, and elation into the heart of the son of Hades.

Howling.

The howling of wolves.

* * *

The werewolf army crashed into the right flank of the Greek army. Three Greeks went down before the rest of the warriors could respond, and another one died before the shields were in position.

Which left an opening for the Roman pila, and they slashed and hacked before the werewolves hit the Roman lines, which buckled and crumbled. The carefully ordered pila and shield walls, so effective against a human opponent, could not stand against the undying werewolf horde.

The centurions shouted orders and brought the werewolf battle plan into play, which left their right side open to attack from the Greeks' left.

And the deaths increased, and the dead marched to Erebus.

And still,Nico di Angelo waited, waited, waited for the murderer to show himself.

And at last he did.

'Lycaon!' Nico roared, and plunged into the fight. He deflected a Roman arrow, kicked the legs out from a legionnaire, sucked the essence of a werewolf into his Stygian blade, and found himself before the werewolf king himself.

He swung his sword as casually as if saying hello. The werewolf responded in kind.

And they began to fight.

* * *

On Olympus, the two factions watched the battle with bated breath. Cries and cheers rang through the otherwise empty halls.

Zeus grumbled.

One man, in a palace near the western edge of the mountain, watched alone, his eyes fixed, calm, on the fight, but his thoughts in turmoil.

I will not join this war, he insisted. I have done enough. I have fought enough. Let me have done.

But his heart wanted to join the fight.

I have quested enough, he insisted. My left hand was lost in a battle. My hair was bleached in a fight with Huitzilopochtli. I was made champion by Nike herself. I died for Nico once already.

But his heart was with Nico on the field.

And finally he couldn't bear it, and with a cry of rage and indecision, he leaped from the mount anf flew to the ground.

Dionysus asked me to fight for the Romans and I refused, he thought. Look what my hesitation made me do.

And ever, through the deaths of Romans, the pain of the champion of Nike, and the fury of Nico di Angelo...

A spirit watched. Goaded. Waited.

And drew ever closer to the day when Kronos, Lord of Time, could rise from Tartarus and take control of the universe.

* * *

 **I know, right? I promise answers and I totally deliver. Don't worry, anything made unclear will probably be explained at a later date.**

 **First of all: thanks to my totally awesome reviewers! I love y'all.**

 **Secondly: in case you didn't get it... Lycaon is the baddy who's been waltzin' through my chappies. The Romans are mostly against Nico, the Greeks mosty for, though anyone on either side who disagreed with said side's opinions probably defected to the other camp. New praetors will be revealed. Anything else?**

 **Oh yeah! Me. I'm in here. In case you didn't notice. I am also totally boss, both in Invictus and real life, so get ready for my cameo to be epic.**

 **Bye for now, my good people! Come back next week (and we all know how good I am at keeping _that_ promise) and we shall see what we shall see. **

**(Any spelling errors, please forgive. I have typed every single one of these chappies on a Wii U and really can't go back and edit. Thanks.)**


	5. In the Fell Clutch of Circumstance

In the Fell Clutch Of Circumstance

* * *

 **Hey everyone! If you're reading this, you have done one of the three following: a, you have randomly seen this story on the general feed and clicked. To you: congratulations. You did it. Yes, my friend(s), you have discovered one of the all time Great AU/EU Fanfictions of All Time. Here it is. I do, of course, strongly advise that you follow and fave this story, but it's a new world and I'm not watching through your webcam.**

 **b, you got this story recommended to you by an FF friend. Tell them I love them, and that they are now in my list of favorite people. To you, the same message as I gave above. You found it. Grab some popcorn and sit back, cause we're gettin' ready to rumble.**

 **And c. You are a follower. You saw this alert pop up and you jumped here as fast as your little mouse could carry you. To you I give a special message.**

 **You are my rock. My strength and support. To you, who have journeyed thus far through the four chapters I've churned out, and will, presumably, be here with me for the remaining twelve.**

 **Thank you. Without you, empires were not built. Without you, ideas were not brought to light. Without you, creativity, imagination, and art... Would be inexistant.**

 **Steel yourself. Both in life and fantasy.**

 **You are the following.**

* * *

Nico drove his black sword toward the werewolf king's black heart, wishing with all of his soul (or what was left of it) that he could end it, here and now.

But of course, it was not to be.

Lycaon slammed his booted foot into Nico's chest, twisting his body, snakelike, to avoid the blade's razor edge.

The son of Hades fell to the ground.

And Lycaon brought his iron blade down.

The sword cut through Nico's shirt and into his gut.

Nico gasped and dropped his sword on reflex. Lycaon smiled, a thin, gloating smile, reminding Nico of Nero or a skull. 'Die, son of Hades,' Lycaon said, but his words were lifeless, as if he only hissed them because it was the thing one said when defeating an enemy. He held his sword in Nico's body for a moment. Nico felt no pain.

Then Lycaon ripped the blade away, spraying blood in an arc across the nearest werewolf.

Then it hurt.

Nico screamed, loud even through his clenched teeth, and pressed his fists into the wound, trying to keep his blood in his body, even though Will had once told him that internal bleeding was almost as bad. Lycaon stared at him for a moment more, then turned away.

'Continue,' he said to his werewolves. 'Kill the Romans. Bring me the Greeks.' The monsters around him wheeled and charged as one, tearing into the Roman lines with a new ferocity.

Lycaon leaned on his blade and stared at the sky, idly watching the low, rumbling clouds.

Then he realized he was looking at something.

A golden light, streaking through the clouds toward him. A god? No. They had pledged to not interfere with this battle, at least.

Then what, he wondered, as the golden point of light grew and approached, shooting through the vapor and windful sky.

* * *

I shot from Olympus, my hair plastered against my scalp, my eyes full of tears from the bitter wind. The godlike power with which all champions are imbued was growing stronger, I could feel it. Growing so strong that I shone with a steadily increasing light.

So strong that I would survive this fall from Olympus.

Zeus, I knew, determined my trajectory. With a roar of rage that shook the mountain, he fired a bolt at me, designed to knock me off target, if not kill me.

But as the Lord of the Sky could use his power to affect _my_ attack, so too could my sponsor, Lady Nike, Goddess of Victory. She expended much of her strength in a heroic deflection of Lord Zeus' bolt.

And the pent-up tension behind me, that had been building for months, came to a head in my leap from the Mount. The forces at war behind me grew, as each god added his or her strength to the strife, and the mountain shook again with the rage of the All-Father.

And I sped from the mountaintop, the wind whipping my face, and the third Olympian War raging behind me.

* * *

'Centurion,' the young legionnaire said, touching the war leader on the shoulder. 'Centurion Bellator, sir. Something coming. Eastern. In the sky.'

Bellator squinted at the sky in the direction the soldier was pointing. There was... something. But he didn't know what.

'Watch it, Quirin. Tell me when you can tell what it is.' Bellator returned to the command of troops, directing positioning and deployment of troops.

'Centurion,' Quirin said after a few moments. 'Sir, it's a figure. A person.'

'A... god?' Bellator murmured as he stared at the sky. He had been told by the new praetor that the gods would not interfere. But what else could it be?

Far too soon, he learned the answer.

The man, as he saw it was, (or a boy. Whichever. Between the ages fourteen and twenty-five.) hit the ground in an explosion of fire, light, dirt, and Roman bodies. Around the touchdown point, smoke and dust billowed and floated across the remaining Roman lines.

The figure, the one who had fallen from the sky with such devastation to his troops, stood in the middle of the cloud and brushed himself off.

'Shoot him,' Bellator ordered to his detachment of archers. 'Now.'

The archers, in unison, raised their bows, drew, and fired.

The arrows burst into flames before they reached the newcomer and were ash before they touched his chest.

'Again,' Bellator ordered. 'Kill him.'

The second flight of arrows curved around the figure and skittered away into the dust and smoke, hitting the line of Greek shields thirty yards away.

Bellator realized that no one on the battlefield was moving, not even the werewolves. Every pair of eyes was on the strange man.

'Bellator,' the... person?... called through the still air. 'We can do this all day, or you can stop wasting your men's arrows and listen to me.'

No one moved.

'What's happening here is idiotic and pointless. You're tearing apart a bond that's been torn for two thousand years and more, and was only built at the end of the second damn Giant War... for what? Look at Nico. He's a son of Hades. Not hard to find. Wherever he goes, the very world shivers at his coming. Any child of Ceres could'a told you where he was. But you chose to come here, meet here, with all your armies and the Greeks with their armies, for why?'

He spread his arms, indicating the surrounding soldiery. 'I'll tell you. You welcomed it. You welcomed this chance, all of you, to attack each other and do battle with your age-old enemies.' He spat. 'Idiots.' After a pause, filled with the labored breathing of the werewolves and the groans of the wounded.

'I will give answer, whoever you are,' Bellator declared finally. 'But first: who are you?'

'The champion of Nike,' Jake said.

Bellator nodded once, eyes fixed close on the champion's face. 'So hear my answer, son of a mortal. You speak of the Giant War? You know nothing of the Giant War. You know nothing save what the traitor son of Athena has released to the world. But I was there. I was there in the middle of nightmares. I battled demons, heard the screams of the dying and the whistle of arrows. I felt the deep bite of an enemy sword and the far deeper bite of Phobos. I loaded the weapons and fired on the Greek camp, before that son of Hades we fight over now, convinced us to make peace.

'And I saw my centurion brought down by an arrow. Not the curséd black arrows of the monsters, take note. Not the arrow of a cynocephalus.

'The arrow of a graecus. Aimed at my centurion's heart, loosed with hatred, and fletched with evil. A Greek killed my centurion! Hear me!' He roared the last two words to the skies, fury audible in his voice. A tear ran down his cheek. 'You say I welcomed the chance to drive my sword into the black heart of a Greek? I tell you I have good reason.' He turned. 'There will be no peace.'

The archers behind him fired again; not at the champion of Nike standing before them, but past him, into the packed lines of the Greek army.

And the field once again roared to life.

* * *

 **Well? How was it? I don't know what you think till you tell me, guys! Thanks again to the beautiful people who've already reviewed.**

 **A few notes: I made a few (alright, two) references in this story to my other one, A Mortal In Camp Half-Blood. Now, I know that it was recieved with mixed feelings. I totally understand; it may be the most absolute piece of schist that I've ever had the misfortune to release from my twisted mind, FF or otherwise, but if you have the mental stamina to get to the heart of the tale and ignore the slew of adverbs, pathetic fallacies, clichés, overused proper nouns, and other idiocies... You might wanna give it a try. If so, stop reading and get yo' digital ass over there, cause I'ma give spoilers to the other special kiddies.**

 **Gone?**

 **No?**

 **Probly the wiser move. Anyway, in regard to the 'references': Yes, I am the main character of my story. I basically become the champion of Nike, join up with a majority of the Seven, and save the world. Totally Disney-ish and basically both unrealistic and bad. Anyway, Rick is a child of Athena and betrays camp.**

 **Yeah.**

 **Okay.**

 **Bye! Come back next time! I'd say next week, but look how well I kept that promise last time.**

 **Byeeeeee!**


	6. I Have Not Winced Nor Cried Aloud

I Have Not Winced, Nor Cried Aloud

* * *

 **Hey guys! I'm sorry, I know, I've been awful with updating. But for once I have a good excuse! I've been working on the scripts for my new PJO series! It's gonna be computer animated and so far it's going great. It's gonna be awesome.**

 **Not. Lol.**

 **Anyway. Here's the next chappie.**

* * *

The champion of Nike stood, a golden glow in the midst of the clogged warfare, and thrust his hand out to the nearest Roman, who was flung into the air and landed with a thud on top of another.

Another flight of arrows whistled past him. He paid them no mind.

'Nico!' he roared, projecting into the packed battle, but no response came, unless you count the howling werewolf that swung a curved sword at his gut. Jacob gripped him by the throat and lifted him in the air.

'I have come far since the last time we met, lykos,' he spat into the wolfman's face. 'Begone.'

The werewolf dissolved into a puddle of darkness and Jacob turned back to where he saw the son of Hades' dark essence slowly fading away. 'Nico,' he whispered. 'Wait for me.'

The hordes of soldiers on both sides battled and struggled against the impossible odds. The arrows flew, the swords clashed, the spears shattered and the shields groaned. The war was carnage, as carnage is war, and all rational creatures fear death and so struggle to get away from the black mist.

And another demigod fell. Which side? It didn't matter.

And the death ate into Nico's system, poisoning his soul with its black terror.

 _Not the death_ , he realized, as he lay, his blood ebbing from him as the battle raged above. _Not the death. Death is a part of life, the continuation of a neverending circle. What is killing me is the killing. The war._

And with that realization came the ability, and with the ability came his strength.

And the lances and pennons flew above.

* * *

On Olympus, the gods were fighting.

Full-scale war it was not. Pitched battle? Yes. Zeus cast his thunderbolts at Poseidon, Hades blasted Ares with waves of darkness, Hera battled Athena and Apollo fired his golden arrows at his sister.

And in a corner, sitting, preparing a final blast of magic, sat Hecate, silent, unnoticed.

But what she was about to do may well be the worst idea she'd ever had.

And that's saying a lot.

* * *

Nico rolled to the side as the werewolf's sword came down, slamming into the earth inches away from his head. He roared (Nico, not the wolf) and leaped to his feet, his hand already thrust out, releasing a blast of black energy, dispersing the essence of the monster and reducing him to ash and smoke.

A spear came out of nowhere towards his face, the iron tip already stained red with the blood of some other unfortunate demigod. Nico ducked, and the weapon flew over his head, slamming into the unprotected chest of another Greek.

The casualties increased.

A flight of burning arrows flew stark against the overcast sky, the fiery tips streaking through the air and toward a phalanx of Greeks.

Nico turned away. There was only one way to stop this madness: kill the one responsible.

And so he searched away from the pack, looking for the familiar darkness and the shimmering air like heat on a cold day.

He found it.

He thrust out his hand again, the dark magic flowing through his body, and he drew on his reserves of strength with a cry that echoed against the warring armies.

He let it go.

With a roar like a dying lion, the power he released shot through the air, a twisting, flowing river of energy that would have instantly destroyed any normal enemy.

But the one he was aiming for was not normal.

The magic redirected when it came to the shimmering darkness, fifty yards away. The power simply flowed around it, then coalescing beyond the target and rebounding back toward the battlefield.

Nico watched it fly over his head, his mouth open in fear and anger.

The energy hit the ground in the very center of the fighting, where the worst was happening, and exploded, sending disintegrating bodies flying through the air, tossed like rag dolls on the magic of Nico di Angelo.

* * *

But that magic was all that Jacob, champion of Nike, needed to find Nico.

Sander. That was what he had been called. The mortal name would no longer be needed; he was beyond that. He was a champion of Nike.

Then why, he wondered as he cast energy, directed at the feet and weapons of the approaching Romans, why did this use of godly power bother him so much. It caused headaches, cramps, pain in his eyes. It was as if his body, though having been through suns and across galaxies in the service of Nike, was still rebelling against his abilities, mortal as is had been born to be.

Then a Roman charged at him, screaming, and Sander raised his arm for another blast… but the energy would not come.

The Roman swung his blade against Sander's neck. Though he was protected by the goddess normally, he now felt a drain on his energy, as if she was no longer helping. He roared and grabbed the Roman by the front of his breastplate, flinging him through the air as if he weighed nothing, then turned his gaze toward Olympus.

Was it possible Nike had fallen?

Another flight of arrows arced toward him. They shattered on his wards, but he felt the drain again, and he realized he would have to defend himself from now on.

He took a sword and shield from the body of a dead Greek, noting with regret the young age of the warrior, then joined a group of Greeks at a point where they were pressed the hardest. His first thrust, though he was trying not to kill anyone, went through the Roman's breastplate and out the other side. The dead man's face showed shock as he slid off Sander's blade, then blank oblivion.

'Damn,' Sander grunted.

The other three Greeks seemed to have no such qualms about killing the Romans, hacking and stabbing with ferocious ability.

'Don't kill them,' Sander said, blocking a strike from a legionnaire and punching him in the face. 'They're our friends! Our brothers!'

One of the Greeks swore under his breath, dodging an arrow. 'They killed my brother,' he spat, and hacked a Roman right between the helm and breastplate. 'I'll kill them.'

Then a ball of black energy exploded right in front of them and Sander was flung thirty yards away.

He groaned and stood, knowing the danger of remaining down on a battlefield, and stared, shocked, at the place where the blast had hit. Everyone within a ten-yard radius had been blasted away, and most had been killed and vaporized. The center of the blast was a scarred dent in the ground, the grass beneath burned and blackened.

He turned to where the blast had come from. Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades, the one he had come to save, was even now readying another blast.

He sprinted toward Nico. If Nico fired again, the deaths would be incredible. He grabbed his arm. 'Nico!' he shouted. 'What the hell are you doing?'

The son of Hades stared at him, wide-eyed. 'I was shooting for that,' he said, pointing, to where Sander could see a lone man, old, leaning on a black staff, surveying the battle with much enjoyment.

'Who is he?' Sander asked. Nico stared harder.

'You can see him?' Nico whispered, and Sander nodded. 'He's Kronos.'

A beat.

It seemed that the whole world was watching, now, as Sander turned back to the old man, and put out his hand. 'Who are you?' he shouted across the intervening space.

The old man raised a hand in mocking salute, and faded into the ground, leaving nothing but withered grass and a sense of evil.

'We need to leave,' Nico said. 'We need to get to the Underworld and warn my father.'

'And hurry,' Sander said.

And with a wash of water, Percy appeared, perfectly dry, of course, but having ridden a wave from the command tent. 'Guys,' he said, his expression grim. 'What are we doing?'

Sander motioned in the general direction of the hidden entrance to the Underworld. 'To the Underworld. We're going to warn Hades about Kronos.'

As a credit to Percy, he didn't ask questions, but followed them immediately.

Nico raised his arms. 'Gather around,' he said. 'I'll shadowtravel you.'

And then an arrow shot from nowhere and stuck in the ground, quivering.

A black arrow.

Fired from a black bow.

Wielded by a being with a black heart.

'Lycaon,' Nico said. 'The god of werewolves? Percy. He's here. He killed Reyna and Frank. We have to kill him… We have to stop this war…'

Then another arrow flew between them, and Lycaon pushed his way out of the battle, surrounded by four of his honor guard.

'Son of Hades!' he roared. 'You got away from me once! Time for you to die. The Olympians are falling. My master is rising.'

'I never understand why the bad guys feel the need to monologue about rising and falling,' Percy muttered. 'Let's kill him before he tells us to surrender while we still can.'

'Surrender while you still can!' Lycaon howled.

Percy sighed.

Nico and Sander raised their hands. Together, they released energy, dispelling the four werewolf guards and dragging Lycaon towards them.

'This is too easy,' Nico grunted as Lycaon flew through the air. 'Kronos has a different plan. He doesn't care if we kill this creature.'

Then Lycaon tumbled at their feet.

'Wait…' he started, before Nico drew his sword and in one fluid motion separated the werewolf's head from his body.

A gout of black blood spurted across his clothes, which he disregarded, watching the werewolf's body melt into darkness.

'And so dies the king of the werewolves,' Nico mumbled as the last vestiges of the shadow dissolved into mist. 'Thus always to our enemies.'

He turned to Sander and Percy. 'Are we ready? We need to warn my father. Hurry.'

Nico shadowtraveled them to the entrance to the Underworld. They were about to enter.

And then, in a flash of light, they all disappeared and appeared in Olympus.

* * *

 **Okay guys! How's that for a chappie? I truly am sorry for the late update. I'll do better next time. Maybe. Probably not.**

 **Anyway. Leave a review! Follow! Fave!**

 **Farewell, my good people!**


	7. Not A Real Chapter, I Need Help

**Okay guys I'm really sorry, I know I have like three minutes before someone reports this because it's not a real chapter...**

 **But I'm having trouble uploading and I need help.**

 **Anyone know what to do I go to 'New Story', right, and select my category. Then I click 'Continue'...**

 **And it gives me a blank screen. It's not even loading.**

 **Help...**

 **Peace out! Survive!**


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